Just One of Those Things
by Calim1
Summary: Brass / Grissom get in over their heads. Written for the CSI Forever Online June Prompt Challenge.


_Howdy! Here rests an entry for the CSI Forever Onlline .com June Prompt Challenge. (The prompts are listed below.) Please note that raunchy humor and goofiness abound, Grissom/Sara are married and Brass has his own girly on his arm. This is part of my "Happily Ever After" series of silliness, Grissom/Sara style. I hope you enjoy._

_Onward ~_

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CSI** – Just One of Those Things**

by Susan Dietz (Calim 11)  
Rating / Reader Alerts: PG-13+  
Category: JB/GG, Raunchy Humor, a few indelicate words

Summary: Brass/Grissom get in over their heads.

Written for CSI Forever Online prompt story challenge using: La Perla, "Geez, that's not how I'm used to doing it", "You've got to be kidding me", "She taught me everything I know", latex, "Did you ever . . ." and French.

_© July 10, 2012_

_Feedback is appreciated_

_Disclaimer: The characters and general situations in this story are the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer, however I reserve the rights to the specific details. It is not my intention to infringe upon their rights; this story is purely for the enjoyment of fans. Please do not redistribute in any form_

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"You seem to know a lot about women's lingerie for a man in your position," said the pretty blonde sales woman dressed in a tight fitting cat suit.

"It's a sideline," Jim Brass gave back with a sweet smile, taking the time to notice her name tag read Ashlin.

"Oh?"

"You see, Ashlin, the LVPD doesn't pay all that much, at least, as much as I need, and I have to please my man."

Gil Grissom, partner in crime, had to turn away or he'd ruin it for Brass with a smile that threatened to split his face when she glanced his way. Using that moment to view the racks of teddies and laced panties he wondered if Sara would like that tiger striped number gracing a buxom model up on the shelf over the blood red and black bras or would she prefer the . . .

"May I help you?" came a voice from behind.

Startled, Grissom spun, feet tripping over each other to send him falling back into the teddy rack then flat on the floor covered with said teddies moments later. He looked up then into the surprised face of a young man dressed much the same as Ashlin.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," he said, leaning over Grissom who'd managed to turn as red as the teddy now draped over his chest.

"That's okay," he hastily spit out as he tried to find some traction with which to push himself up, giving up after his hands kept slipping out from under him.

"Come here often?" Brass asked as he came into view, desperately trying but not succeeding in keeping the grin off his face.

"Next time get another sidekick," he answered immediately raising a hand for help.

"You didn't want the cape," Brass said hoisting Grissom to his feet, swiping away teddies that insisted upon clinging to his posterior.

"I wanted a theme song."

"I'm working on it."

Grissom straightened his jacket then turned to the young man. "I'm so sorry for the mess."

"That's all right. I'll take care of it."

"No, no," answered Grissom as he grabbed one end of the rack and righted it then dived into the twisted pile of snarled teddies lying at his feet, tangling them up even more in his haste.

"Sir, sir," the man quickly said, placing a hand on Grissom's shoulder to stop his frantic movements. "I'll take care of this."

An embarrassed half grin came to his lips and he nodded. "Thank you," he whispered before slowly backing away. "I'll just . . . I think I'll just sit over here," he said to Brass motioning over his shoulder to the cushioned chair by the rather well-endowed statue of David. "Seems safer."

Brass smiled then turned back to the blonde. "Now, where were we?"

"You were purchasing a La Perla bra," Ashlin said as if nothing had happened.

"That's right."

Glancing once more at a giggling Grissom, he happily followed Ashlin to the display at the back of the store.

CSICSICSI

"And that's how it all started?" Detective Lou Vartann asked of Brass as he maneuvered himself out of the way of a burly nurse who didn't even cast a glance his way as she barreled into the small curtained cubicle.

"That's it," came Brass' answer as the nurse handed him an icepack before slipping back out.

"So you went to The Purple Tip to buy a-a La Perla bra?" came his next question in a quiet voice.

Brass let out a heavy breath and peered up at the detective around the icepack he placed against his cheek. Well, he'd had to tell on himself more than once in his life. What was so different about this.

"Back in Jersey there was a group of us who banded together after the shit hit the fan about the precinct's corruption. We stuck like glue because that was the only way we'd make it through all the mud-slinging and name calling and questions about our manhood. For awhile it got so bad we started daring ourselves to do things just to make sure we still had our balls attached."

"But that was some time ago, Jim."

He nodded. "Yeah, well, even though we've gone our separate ways, every once in a while a dare heads out to the guys."

"And it, ah, didn't occur to you to ignore it?"

Brass raised a brow. "Balls," he reiterated and Vartann nodded.

"So this was one of those times?"

Brass nodded again. "Got an Email from John Turco, my partner way back then, who informed me his girl wanted a La Perla bra and, since it was my time to prove I still had a pair, I had to buy it for him."

"And so you took Grissom with you," he in an incredulous tone.

"Hey, he always comes through for me," came his answer. "It never hurts to have back up either. How is he anyway?"

"He's got a concussion, bruises, a wrenched elbow and twenty stitches in his arm. The doctors want him to stay overnight."

Brass chuckled. "Oh, I bet that went over well."

"Not really. Fortunately, Sara showed up and threatened to cuff him to the bed if he didn't behave. Last time I looked he was in bed, no cuffs in sight, and she was reading to him about bugs."

Brass smiled. "That'll keep him quiet."

"So Ashlin tells me," Vartann continued, "that the both of you had been there about fifteen minutes when 'all the shouting started in back'."

"Yeah, that's about right. She and I were finishing up our transaction when loud voices came from the back. Gil and I were just going to ignore it when merchandise started flying through the curtain."

"Merchandise?"

"You know. Dildoes, bottles of lube, a whip or two. When we heard a loud scream I thought it best that we investigate."

"And you both went in?"

"Well, yeah. Gil. Back up." Vartaan smirked. "He's a good wing man, Lou. Cut him some slack."

"Okay," he responded with a slight chuckle.

"So we rushed through the curtain and saw a guy on the floor with high heels imbedded in his back screaming his lungs out. _In_ those high heels was another guy. Before I could tell him to freeze he was flying through the air at Gil who ended up face first on the floor. Next thing I knew a hairy fist was coming _my_ way," he said with a slight shake of the head.

"So ducking didn't enter your mind?" Vartann asked.

Brass looked up at him. "Did you ever have a moment when your brain just turned off, Lou? Like it's on sensory overload or something?" Vartann just looked puzzled. "Well, it happened to me tonight," he admitted. "I'm thinking it was the brightly colored latex and all those flashing lights. Made everything strobe. Put me off balance."

Vartann's face squinched up at that. "Strobe?"

Brass saw that face and knew he'd probably look the same if he'd heard that comment. "There was a mannequin in bright red liquid latex right next to a wall of condoms with lights under them," he explained. "The lights flashed to catch your attention, bounced off the mannequin then off the sequined halter thing the guy in heels was wearing."

"Oh."

"Anyway, he hit me so hard I tripped over the guy on the floor and landed on my ass, conveniently next to a cattle prod which, thankfully, had all of its D batteries up to date. I zapped him when he came for me again and tossed him across the room." He sighed. "Unfortunately, he landed on Gil just as he was trying to get to his feet. That's how he ripped up his arm on that statue - the one with the all the little lady figurines crawling up that enormously large . . ."

"I saw it," Vartann quickly threw in.

"Well, fortunately, the guy in heels got the shaft when Gil knocked it over on him," he said with gleam in his eye, making Vartann grin. "Knocked him flat and out. It took me a good minute to realize that this was going to be hard to explain what with me sitting half on and off a bleeding guy with a cattle prod in my hand and Gil knocked out cold covered in a mass of feathered boas that appeared out of nowhere and a bunch of those lady figurines all over his back."

"Ashlin took a photo," Vartaan informed his boss, "so you don't have to worry about an explanation. Now I just need to explain the charges?

Brass eyed him. "What charges?"

"Charges were filed against you and Grissom."

"Who filed charges?"

"Henry DuPlant," Vartann read from his notebook.

"You've got to be kidding me? Frenchie?"

"He said you attacked him while he was 'discussing business with his partner'."

Brass's brows flew up. "_That_ was Frenchie?"

"Yeah, the guy in the high heels."

"Hmm," said Brass as he rubbed his chin. "I didn't recognize him. He's always been so sweet, more concerned about did he look better in pink or purple."

"You're sure they were fighting?"

"Lou, I know the difference between a discussion and a fight and sticking your heels in your partner's back isn't a discussion."

Vartann held up a hand. "I have to ask."

"I know. So, what _are_ the charges?

"Ah, disturbing the peace and fighting. All of those can be explained. Then there's assault."

"Assault?"

"Frenchie said you hit him."

"I didn't hit him. I prodded him but only after he nearly broke my face."

"Then there's stolen property, vandalism and premeditated murder."

"Murder?"

"Premeditated. The guy on the floor."

"Those weren't my high heels in him."

"And the stolen property and vandalism?"

Looking slightly chagrined, Brass reached into his pocket and pulled out a red thong. "Well, I found this when I was looking for my badge. Don't know how it got there and you already know about Gil and the statue. Other than that, I can't think of anything else."

"You keep that," he said, shoving Brass's hand back and pointing at his pocket to put it away. "I don't have a bindle or gloves with me so keep that where it was. Someone will pick it up."

"You're sure Gil's okay?"

"I'm sure."

"Do you think they'll let me see him?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good. You know, I'll probably have to get him some extra special bug display or something to make up for this. I mean, he was doing me a favor by coming along and he ends up nearly impaling himself on a giant dick. That's gotta cause wild ass dreams."

Vartann tried not to laugh and managed to cover it up with a cough as he scribbled down some notes.

"Who was the guy with Frenchie's heels in him anyway?" Brass asked, shifting the ice pack around.

"Jeno Parkins. Seems he and Frenchie were partners in the store. Catherine thinks it might be a lover's spat."

"Is he going to be okay?"

Vartann shrugged. "Last time I saw either of them the EMT's were hauling Parkins out of the store and Frenchie was yelling something about betrayal as he was cuffed."

"Sounds like Catherine's right. Lover's spat."

"Or, more likely, Jeno was getting ready to sell the store out from under Henry," came a new voice from around the curtain. "I hope I'm not interrupting," said Heather Kessler as she glanced between the two men.

"No," Vartann answered with a shake of the head. "I was just going to check up on Grissom. Ms. Kessler," he said pocketing his notebook, "please keep an eye on the Captain. He might be a flight risk."

"Ha, ha," Brass growled.

"I'll do my best, Detective," she said with a slight bow of the head as Vartann slipped out of the cubicle. Turning her full attention on Brass, she sighed and trailed her fingers lightly over the darkening bruise on his face. "I shouldn't have let you go out tonight."

"I thought I was pretty safe with Gil."

"How is he? They wouldn't let me see him."

"They tell me he'll be fine. Just beat up a little. Sara's with him."

"That's good. He doesn't like to be alone in hospitals." She sat down next to him on the gurney. "You're wondering how I might know about the selling of the store."

"The thought had occurred."

She smiled and gently rubbed his arm. "I was the co-signer on their loan. I've known the both of them for many years and they'd always wanted to open a business together. I tried to talk them out of it what with the economy the way it is, but they were determined so I gave in. Everything seemed to be going fine."

"Then what happened?"

"Jeno came to me last week with news that they'd been offered a large sum of money to sell the business. I warned him that Henry would not agree since he'd spent most of his adult life wanting to be respectable."

"Then he should've worn sensible shoes," Brass quipped and she pursed her lips.

"There is more to respectability than what you wear on your feet," she said in a tone that spoke of barely contained aggravation.

Brows raised, he lowered the icepack. "I was thinking of _three _inch heels instead of six. You know, the less wear and tear on your legs and feet, the better you feel at the end of the day which usually means you don't want to bury them in anyone."

Her face smoothed. "Oh," she said following that up with a slight smile. "Since Jeno is now in the hospital and Henry is sitting in a jail cell, your next question should be do I think Henry would be capable of doing that to Jeno."

"And your answer?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "Yes." Brass remained quiet, so quiet her certainty faltered a bit. "Jim, are you all right?"

"Um, I'm just . . . I'm awake right? I'm not having some sort of concussive hallucination am I?"

She frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, geez, that's not how I'm used to doing it with you." She frowned. "I mean, not used to hearing straight answers from you over things like this. It's usually some long, convoluted war of words with so many layers I get lost trying to figure them out."

A wash of surprise crossed her face. "I've never been anything but truthful with both you and Grissom. It's _your_ interpretation of what I've said that's caused you to doubt."

He began to smile and she returned it ever so slowly. "Oh, is that what they call it now?"

"Hey," came from Vartann as he ducked his head through the curtains. "I got you a pass to see Grissom. Someone from days just finished up with him and should be going after you next. So let's move before he gets here."

Heather helped Brass off the gurney and held onto his arm. Dizzy for a few moments, he used her closeness as an excuse to lean on her, appreciating the light fragrance she always seemed to wear and the gentle vibe that coursed through him at her touch. He'd stopped wondering what it was that drew Grissom to her once he took the time to notice for himself.

"I heard you found out the attributes of a cattle prod during your melee," she said to Brass as they slipped into a waiting elevator.

He gave her a silly smile only to catch Vartann looking oddly at him. "Hey, she taught me everything I know."

Vartann waved his hand and pushed himself closer to the elevator door. "I'm so not touching that."

Brass chuckled and Heather smiled then folded her hand over his.

_**CSICSICSI  
**_

The elevator doors opened and Vartann led the way, flashing his badge to the nurse who pointed down the hall.

"Room 221," she said not bothering to follow them.

"I'll come back in ten," he said as Brass and Heather slipped inside.

They could hear Sara laughing and Grissom pleading with her to stop for the sake of his head as they peered around the curtain.

"So, what's so funny?" Brass asked as they gathered around his bed.

Grissom narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. "I demand my theme song," he emphatically stated, "or I'm no longer your wing man."

"I'm working on it. I swear. Scout's honor," he answered holding up his version of the Boy Scout salute.

"Ha! Sara, do you know how long I've been hearing that?"

"How long?" she said going along with it.

"At least three years."

"More like five," Brass corrected, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"Five? Even worse."

"I tried the Spiderman theme but . . ." Brass shrugged.

"I want something original that I can sing to myself when we're in lock up."

"Everything would've been fine if you hadn't insisted we help," Brass stated as Heather took a seat, drawing Grissom's attention.

"Oh, hi, Heather," he said with a slight smile. She glanced at Sara.

"I think Frenchie rattled his brain," she stated rolling her eyes around. "Or it could've been that enormous man-thing."

"Ah."

"You're the one that ran in like Dirty Harry," Grissom insisted, getting back on track. "I was sucked in by the vacuum you left behind. You know, for an old fart, he can move pretty quick," he said to Heather.

"I know," she answered with a secret smile and a raised brow to which Brass merely cleared his throat and looked away.

"Do you think they'll let Sara in for conjugal visits?" Grissom said aloud then focused on Brass. "I mean when they send us to the big house."

"What?" he asked glancing at Sara.

"Vartann told us Frenchie had pressed charges," she relayed.

"We did kind of mess up his place," Grissom admitted.

"Only after he tossed us around in it."

Grissom frowned then memory dawned. "Oh, yeah."

Brass couldn't help but laugh. "Man, you're all over the place."

He rubbed gently at his forehead. "I am aren't I?"

"Yes, dear," Sara said kissing the back of his hand. "And you probably _will_ remember everything."

He squeezed shut his eyes. "That's what I fear."

Brass pat his leg. "Don't worry about it, Gil. As long as Ecklie isn't here to take your statement you should be good."

"I've been looking for you, Brass," came Conrad Ecklie's voice from the door. "Didn't Vartann tell you someone from days was processing you two?"

"Jim," Grissom whispered motioning to him to lean in. "Conrad's the one who's processing so sshhhhh."

"Thanks for the warning," he whispered back then turned to Ecklie. "I've just the thing for you." And out from his pocket came the red thong. "During the scuffle it ended up on my person. Now, it's all yours."

"Just a minute," he huffed, quickly opening his kit and pulling out a bindle.

"So how did you get stuck with us?" Brass asked.

"Two, and I quote, 'prominent members of the Sheriff's staff' get into a scuffle at The Purple Tip, cause damage and injuries to both themselves and the owners and end up with one owner claiming premeditated murder. Who else would they ask?" Fuming, he sealed up the bindle. "It's not like I don't have anything else to do," he mumbled, stuffing the thong into his kit. "And thanks, by the way," he sarcastically began. "I so wanted to spend my shift dealing with the both of you."

"You're welcome," came as a chorus from Grissom and Brass.

"Lord," he muttered.

"I'm sure He'd gladly help," Brass intoned getting the evil eye from Ecklie.

"There you are," a new voice said and they all turned to see the burly nurse who'd given Brass his icepack. "You've not been released yet, Captain Brass," she informed him. "So get back down to the ER. I will not have a paperwork nightmare because you flew the coop."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered moving a bit too quickly to his feet and shifting a bit to the side. Heather immediately caught him and held him until he steadied. The nurse grabbed his other arm and, between the two of them, maneuvered him toward the hallway.

"If you want me, Ecklie, you'll have to follow after," he said as he wobbled past the irate man. "And I'll be working on that theme song, Gil," Brass called back.

"You'd better!" he yelled at the closing door. He groaned a bit then felt his hand being squeezed. Lazily, he turned his head. "Hi," he said to Sara as if he'd just noticed her.

She grinned. "Hi, yourself."

"I saw something you might like at the store."

"Oh, yeah?"

"It had tiger stripes."

"You mean that _you _might like," she said not able to keep herself from grinning.

"Well, yeah," he answered as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. He yawned then. "Can I go to sleep now?"

"Sure," she said, running fingers through his hair. "I'll be here when you wake up and we can talk about this wing man status of yours."

"Okay," he answered, eyes slowly closing, visions of a tiger waltzing into their bedroom and pouncing on him, purring like mad.

The smile that appeared stayed as he fell asleep.

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_Man-thing would be penis, willy, knob, pole or, one of my favorites, schwanzstucker.  
_

_Well, there it is. Hopefully you like it and will leave a review. And, if you haven't taken a look at the website CSI Forever Online, come on over. We won't bite. Have a great week. :-)_


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